


Tethers

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I picked you, Melinda. Remember that.” Coulson wakes up after an eventful day and heads to the cockpit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tethers

**Author's Note:**

> Post-1x15: “Yes Men”.

When Phil awakens, he’s warm.

The blanket covering him is navy blue with olive green grids, so he sighs deeply before pulling it off. The BUS is silent and dark; he hears the faint sounds of the television from his right and strands of harsh metal from his left. His boys are coping, Phil knows, but he worries more for his daughters – Simmons’ bunk is empty, he notes as he passes by, and thoughts of Skye force him to stop at the door of the cockpit.

Melinda knows he’s there before he even opens the door. “Stay,” she says, even before he enters. Her voice is steady, but the strain in her breath is clear in how her eyes shake locked onto his.

Phil sits down beside her, fists clenched, every tendon screaming and pulling him towards a girl living on borrowed time, their blood now too similar for comfort.

The space just below his heart stings.

“You fell asleep,” says Melinda, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I didn’t want to move you too far.”

“Thank you,” says Phil. He knows he should notice her unsteady breathing and her nervous twitches, but Phil finds anger and fear overtake his usual observances. “And – thank you, for – earlier.”

Melinda’s lips quirk upwards, just slightly. “You talked to Skye then?”

Phil nods. His clenched fists ache in time with the headache building behind his temples, but all he sees when he stares out into the black is wisps of clouds that look like condensed last breaths. Lips sealed shut, he wants to scream; lying to Melinda burns him, flames of lies licking up his insides and leaving scarred tissue the suffocates him slowly. He glances over to her. “How are you doing?”

Her smile lifts only the right half of her face. “We have a job to do.” When she catches Phil’s frown, Melinda shakes her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know that – “

“I know.”

His nails dig into his palms, the strains in his muscles ebbing between painful and stabilizing. The sky is too dark to see patterns, but Phil sees a tangled web outlined before him. Unfortunately, he’s drawn in the middle, knotted between thick threads and stretched apart. A strangled cry exits his lips.

Phil feels her cool fingers first before looking over. She’s still focused on the sky, on her job, but her hand tethers him as she separates his fist. It’s slow; Phil holds onto anger in a tight grip, but Melinda is every bit her name, with delicate touches that ease his shoulders.

Melinda does not hold his hand. She does not interlock her fingers with his or squeeze reassuringly. Instead, she leaves her fingers on top of his palm, her index finger lightly tapping. “I came into this for you, Phil. Remember that.”

When her hand withdraws, Phil follows with his eyes. Instead of responding, he stands – but before he makes to leave, he leans against the back of her chair. Her hair matches the sky, black and embracing, and Phil finally smiles. “I picked you, Melinda. Remember _that_.”

Phil leaves, hands interlocked in front of him; his palm still tingles.


End file.
